


Conversations with a Crow

by AmadeaSwan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmadeaSwan/pseuds/AmadeaSwan
Summary: Adventures of my Mahariel and our favorite elven assassin.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden, Zevran Arainai/Warden
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This went in a direction I really wasn't expecting, but I'm not mad at it! I'm planning on writing more of these two, but my free time is very limited right now so I'm not sure when I'll be posting again. In the meantime, I'd love to hear what you think!

Theron’s unfocused gaze rested on the fire in the middle of camp. He had been sitting next to it for nearly an hour now, since waking from one of the nightmares he wasn’t yet accustomed to. Apparently he hadn’t cried out in his sleep this time, at least. The only other soul to awaken with him had been his Mabari, Finn. The hound now slept soundly again next to his master, and the elf absently stroked the top of his broad head. He was ruminating on whether the dog might be suffering the same visions of darkspawn when a new sound drew his attention across camp. It was Zevran stumbling out of his tent, clearly still half-asleep. Theron nodded at the would-be assassin. Zevran raised a hand in response and then covered a yawn as he headed for the trees at the edge of their clearing. Theron looked back to the fire a moment, then rose to his bare feet to follow.

He kept his distance and moved silently, but Theron suspected the stealth wasn’t necessary. The Antivan had finished off a bottle of some spirit he had brought from his homeland earlier that evening. His lack of situational awareness indicated it hadn’t completely worn off yet. Zevran stopped at the edge of the woods, swayed on his feet a moment as he appeared to consider his options, then shuffled to the closest tree and began untying the front of his breeches. Theron almost turned back to camp then, but his suspicion of the Crow told him to wait. He watched as the man relieved himself against the tree, then took an embarrassingly long time securing himself into his breeches again in his semi-inebriated state. Theron prepared to duck out of sight behind a convenient bush, but Zevran didn’t turn around. Instead he stood looking into the dark forest for a long moment. He took a step toward a gap in the undergrowth, hesitated, and was about to take another when Theron spoke.

“Going somewhere?”

Zevran visibly tensed in surprise, but quickly recovered. “Ah, Warden!” he placed a hand on his bare chest and turned to face Theron, shaking his head. “I see the tales of the Dalish appearing from nowhere are true! Have you decided to take my life after all?” The elf ran a hand through his blonde hair sheepishly. “I thank you for allowing me to attend to business first. I have seen a man killed while urinating. A very undignified death it was.”

Theron crossed his arms. “You know I’d have to if you tried to run. And the darkspawn or wolves would have found you if I hadn’t. So why even try?”

Zevran smiled and spread his hands out with a shrug. “The bird in it’s cage still longs for freedom, even if all that awaits him is the cat.”

Theron nodded to Zevran’s empty hands and general state of undress. “It’s a strange bird indeed that removes it’s beak and talons to face the cat.”

Some of the spirit seemed to leave the Crow’s eyes at that statement, but he hastily restored his carefree mask and began walking past the Warden to return to camp. “Ah, it was a foolish thought. I should not have drunk the last of that Antivan red by myself. It always goes to –” he was cut off abruptly as Theron grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the forest. Zevran stopped resisting after his initial instinctive reaction, letting the man drag him along until the glow of camp was no longer visible. Theron pushed Zevran to the ground as he released him, panting from exertion and anger both. The Antivan spoke up as both men waited for their eyes to adjust to the almost complete darkness. “Well, I normally require payment up front before I let myself be manhandled, but I suppose you get a free pass for sparing my life.” He smirked up at the dark haired elf, the first hint of defiance appearing in his eyes. “I am at your mercy, after all.”

“Shut up! Just, stop talking for one gods damned second and make a decision!” Theron pointed into the darkness. “If you want to go, just do it already!”

Zevran remained where he had been placed on the forest floor, sitting up to rest his arms on his knees. “But, what about the wolves and the darkspawn? I am a bird without it’s talons, remember?”

Theron turned away in disgust, hands on his hips. “There are no darkspawn, at least not close enough to matter. And I haven’t heard any wolves in three days, nor seen any tracks.” He shook his head and sighed. “You should be able to make it to Denerim. Just find the river and follow it back.” Theron waited for a response or the sound of retreating footsteps, but neither came. He huffed a short, humorless laugh. “I don’t care what you do, I just need you to do it somewhere else. I can’t _do_ this anymore!”

Zevran’s tone was almost meek this time. “I did not realize I was being such a bother to you. Please, tell me how I can be of better service and I assure you I –”

“ _Fenedhis lasa_!” Theron turned to face the other elf again. “Enough! I’ve had enough of the act! Stop pretending you don’t _want_ to die!” Zevran flinched at the accusation, but the Warden continued. “Every time you leave my sight, I wonder if this is it. If this is the day you’re going to make me kill you.” Theron closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. “The nightmares are getting worse, and I don’t think it’s just because of the Archdemon anymore.” He looked at Zevran once more, then sat on the ground with a weary sigh. “I’ve lost everything to the Blight. I’m not going to let you take what’s left of me.” Zevran turned away from the Warden’s gaze, as if it physically pained him. The Dalish elf continued. “Stay, or go. You choose tonight. If you go, your life is yours. End it if you want. I won’t try to stop you. But if you stay, you’re choosing to live. Which is it?”

The Antivan was silent, staring at the moss-covered ground. After what seemed like a small eternity he rose to his feet and took a few steps away from his companion. He came to a shuddering halt and braced himself against a tree, as if fighting with his body to keep moving, to take the next step into the darkness. Theron was there the next moment, his hand gripping Zevran’s shoulder more tightly than he intended. “Zevran,” it was almost a whisper. “Don’t do this. Please.”

The Crow trembled in his grip. “I thought you weren’t going to stop me?”

Theron heaved a shuddering sigh. “I-I can’t… lose anyone else, Zev, I –”

Zevran twisted out of the other man’s grip, turning on him like a cornered animal. “And what is that supposed to mean? Who am I to you, hmm? I tried to kill you, or have you forgotten how we met?” He gave a short bark of a laugh, trying to hide the fear rising to the surface. “I know I’m charming, but even I could not erase that first impression!”

Theron let his hands fall to his sides in a helpless gesture. “I know! I-I mean I _don’t_ know! It doesn’t make any sense, I just… I can’t let you disappear.”

The two elves stared at each other for a long moment, the silence filled by the distant call of a night bird. Theron opened his mouth to continue his plea and the wind was knocked out of him as Zevran tackled him to the ground. Gasping for air, the Warden barely got his hand up in time to catch the Antivan’s fist before it connected with his jaw. They struggled for a few minutes until Theron was able to get enough leverage to flip his attacker over and pin his hands to the ground. “Zevran, stop! I don’t want to hurt you!”

This seemed to make the Crow fight even harder to get his hands free, but Theron was ready this time and kept him down. Zevran protested, “And why don’t you?! You should want to feel my heart stop beating in your hands! I was going to kill you in cold blood, because someone paid me to do it! So get your revenge! That’s what you were supposed to do!”

Theron felt his own anger rising up again. “I’m not going to kill you just because you tell me to, idiot! If you really want to die, then leave me out of it!”

Zevran practically bristled under him. “I just tried that, and you stopped me!” Theron struggled for a response to that and Zevran groaned in frustration. “Look, if you’re not going to let me kill myself, then at least have the decency to kiss me!”

“W-what –”

“You heard me! Now are you going to do it, or do I have to do everything myself?”

Theron knew he had hesitated, but suddenly his mouth was on Zevran’s and it felt like this had been the plan all along. It seemed so obvious once he was in it, how could he not have realized what was happening from the beginning? Those thoughts were quickly pushed away though, along with every other thought in his head as Zevran strained against the body pinning him to the ground with a different kind of urgency than moments before. Theron quickly shifted his weight to allow more freedom of movement between them, no longer concerned with keeping the other elf in place. He tried to release the rogue’s wrists as well, but when he did Zevran caught the retreating hand and returned it to it’s original position. Theron tightened his grip and moaned into the kiss as his partner shifted his hips, pressing the bulge in his breeches against the other man’s. The Warden broke the kiss and reached down to untie their laces, making surprisingly short work of it with only one free hand. He drew in a sharp breath when he had managed to free himself, his painfully hard manhood resting against Zevran’s. The latter murmured something in Antivan under his breath when the former took the both of them in his grip and began a stroking motion. It almost had the cadence of prayer, Theron noticed with a smile, resting his forehead against Zevran’s. The blonde reclaimed his lips and moaned wantonly as he began thrusting into Theron’s hand, now slick with precum. The Dalish elf began to feel light-headed as the pressure seemed to build up between them. He tightened his grip and increased his pace, panting against the hot pulse of Zevran’s neck, when suddenly the night was shattered by a third voice.

“Theron! Is that you? What’s going on?!” Alistair shouted from not very far away.

The men on the ground cursed simultaneously in different languages and scrambled to their feet, fumbling to contain themselves within their breeches as the other Warden could be heard crashing through the undergrowth toward them at an alarming speed. He emerged a moment after the pair were decent, standing an entirely innocent six feet apart and still breathing heavily.

“Theron! Z-Zevran?” Alistair’s eyes darted back and forth between the two absurdly for a moment as he tried to make out their faces in the dark. The two elves stole separate glances at the front of the other’s trousers, silently grateful for the comparatively poor night vision of humans. Also for the fact that Alistair had neglected to bring a lantern in his haste. Zevran took up the reins of the conversation.

“Yes, Alistair, it is I. Your fearless leader here has once again apprehended me.”

Alistair narrowed his eyes at the foreign elf. “You were trying to escape, weren’t you?”

Zevran paused to allow his partner a chance to chime in, but apparently the blood hadn’t yet had time to return to his brain, so the Crow continued. “Yes, yes, indeed I was. It is a good thing you Grey Wardens are such light sleepers. If Theron here hadn’t awoken when he did, who knows! I might be all the way to Denerim by now!” Zevran shot a lopsided smile of genuine gratitude at Theron, confident that Alistair couldn’t discern the expression.

The human visibly relaxed at the news that the crisis wouldn’t require any further assistance from him, then turned in a hesitant semicircle. “Great, excellent news! Now, um, if you wouldn’t mind, Theron, could you possibly get us back to camp? It is bloody dark out here.”

The elven Warden, having properly regained his higher faculties, sighed and rolled his eyes. “Alright Alistair, just follow me.” Theron moved towards Zevran. “As for you, prisoner,” he held the Antivan’s wrists behind his back. “No more trouble from you tonight, or I might have to resort to harsher methods of restraint.” Zevran tried to stifle a pleased chuckle as he was guided along by his captor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2, much sooner than anticipated! I had some unplanned time off today and these two were still kicking around in my head, so I decided to see how far I could get. This was going to be a longer chapter, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to sit down and finish what I had planned, so I'm posting what I have for now. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think in the comments!

“Theron? Helloooo? Wakey-wakey!”

Theron groaned into his furs and rolled over. Finn stirred next to him and licked his face.

“Look, I don’t like it anymore than you do, but duty calls and all that.” Alistair released the tent flap and continued talking from outside. “Also, the Antivan hasn’t come out yet either and I’m certainly not sticking my head in there. I like living.” There was a pause, then, “Do you think I should get Sten to do it?”

Theron rolled onto his back and sighed. “No, I’ll take care of it. Just… give me a minute.” The Mabari whined and pawed impatiently at his master. “Well go on, then! You don’t have to wait for me.” Finn gave a short bark and trotted out of the tent.

“Alright, alright.” The sound of retreating footsteps signaled Alistair’s departure as well.

“I was talking to… Nevermind.” The sunlight filtering through the Warden’s tent was almost full daylight. He really had overslept this time. Which was no wonder, considering last night’s diversions. After depositing Zevran into his tent without much ceremony, due to Alistair’s continued presence, Theron had returned to his own tent for the evening. He’d spent most of that time staring at the canvas ceiling, trying to process and make sense of what had happened. He’d been mostly unsuccessful, but it had still kept him up far too late. What little sleep he managed to get was restless, though not for the usual reason. The visions of writhing hordes of darkspawn were replaced by visions of a certain elf writhing beneath him. How he had felt in his hand, the taste of his lips, the scent of his sweat. The Warden sat up with a groan and threw back the furs that had been keeping the chill of the morning at bay. He winced at the cold air and quickly reached for his linen shirt to start getting dressed, letting the cold do it’s part to drive those thoughts from his head.

He emerged soon after to find the rest of the camp broken down and being packed onto Bodahn’s wagon. Everything except Zevran’s tent, of course. Mentally steeling himself, Theron strode across the grass. He was reaching for the cloth door when he heard Shale’s heavy footsteps coming closer. He turned to greet her. “Morning! Sorry I slept so late. Nightmares were especially troublesome last night.”

The golem stared impassively. “Yet another weakness of fleshy mortals. It’s a wonder it gets anything done at all.”

“Yes, well, we’re used to it, I suppose.” Theron stood expectantly for a moment. “…So, uh, was there anything else?”

“Oh, I thought that was obvious. I’m here to ensure the captive assassin doesn’t, well, assassinate it. Carry on. I’ll be more than happy to crush it’s skull if it tries anything.” There was a disturbing amount of glee in her voice as she made the suggestion.

“I don’t think that will be necessary!” Theron quickly responded. “Just, uh, stay here then. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Alright.” Shale sounded disappointed. “I’ll just stand here like a statue, then. I’m used to it, I suppose.”

The elf decided it was fruitless to respond to that comment and finally entered the tent. Zevran was awake, reclining under his furs with his hands behind his head. “Ah, finally! I was beginning to think they’d send that brute of a Qunari after me instead.” The Antivan pulled back his bedding and patted the bedroll. “Come, let’s finish what we started, shall we?”

Theron’s brow furrowed in annoyance and he pressed a finger to his lips, pointing to the hulking shadow of the golem just outside. He knelt down to whisper to the man. “Are you crazy?! Keep your voice down! There is no way I’m going to –”

“Is everything alright? Is the Grey Warden dead yet? Do I get to crush the other one’s skull now?”

“N-no no! No need for that!” Theron picked up Zevran’s pack and tossed it into a corner to make some noise. “Come on, get up! I don’t have time for this you… Antivan… scoundrel!”

Zevran snickered silently. He pulled the Warden down to his level by the front of his wool tunic and played along. “Alright, alright! I’ll get up, just don’t hit me again, please!” Theron was pulled into a kiss before he could respond. He gave himself over to it for as long as he dared, burying his hand in golden hair and stifling a moan when Zev’s hand cupped the front of his trousers. Struck with sudden inspiration, the Warden pulled the other elf from his bedroll and across his lap. He spoke up for their unseen audience again.

“I’ll stop when you’ve learned your lesson!” Theron secured the elf’s wrists behind his back with one hand and massaged his clothed bum with the other. He felt the Antivan’s cock twitch against his thigh and smirked as he landed the first open-handed blow. Zevran grunted in what could easily be mistaken for pain. Another blow followed, then two more, each a bit more forceful than the last. “This is what you get for making me hunt you down in the middle of the night!” Zev groaned and rubbed himself against his captor’s leg.

“Is that all? You’re going to have to do worse than that to intimidate a Crow, Warden.” Theron tugged the man’s breeches down to expose him properly. The next blow was a resounding smack that was surely heard across the clearing, along with Zevran’s accompanying moan. “Hah, that’s more like it! A few more like that and I’ll be a changed man!”

Another slap set Finn off barking somewhere nearby, reminding Theron of the time and place. He released his captive’s wrists and reluctantly pulled his trousers back up. “I-I tire of this!” The Dalish archer stood, rearranged his disheveled tunic, and tucked an errant lock of hair behind his ear. “You’ve wasted enough of my time today.” He helped Zevran to his feet and savored one more lingering kiss before whispering into his ear, “Tonight. I’ll wait up and come to you once everyone’s asleep.”

The Antivan nipped at the Warden’s ear. “Hmm, I’ll be counting the hours, _mi amante_.”

Theron managed to tear himself away and stepped out of the tent while Zevran dressed himself. He looked up warily at Shale, who looked back with no discernible expression. The elf spoke first. “Right then, you uh, stay here until he comes out. I’m going to pack up my things.”

Shale’s voice followed him as he walked away. “It is far too lenient with it’s prisoner. It shouldn’t have stopped until it’s victim begged it to.”

Laughter emanated from the victim’s tent. “You know, the lady has a point!”

Theron shook his head and kept walking, trying to will the flush from his face.

\---

Once the group had gotten properly on the road, it fully occurred to Theron just how long the day was going to be. He normally passed the time learning more about the Wardens from Alistair or listening to one of Leliana’s stories, but he couldn’t stay focused. One minute he was comparing dreams with Alistair, trying to determine if there was a pattern or some clue they could use to their advantage somehow. Then Zevran would trot past on his spirited Antivan stallion on his way to scout ahead and Theron would forget what he was saying. It took a few occurrences, but Alistair eventually realized the source of his comrade’s distraction.

“Remind me, why are we keeping him around again?”

“Hmm… keeping who?”

“Him! The crazy, knifey one? You’ve been watching him like a hawk.” Theron stuttered for a reply, but Alistair continued. “I mean, I get it. I don’t trust him either. I just don’t see why we can’t dump him somewhere, or, y’know…” he made a slicing motion across his own throat. “He _did_ try to murder you, if you remember.”

“Of course I do!” Theron snapped. “We’ve already had this conversation, Alistair. He’s more useful to us alive, and who knows what he might get up to if we just let him go.”

A woman’s voice chimed in from behind the pair. “I agree, he should stay.” Leliana spurred her gelding forward to ride next to Theron. “But I also believe we can trust him.”

Alistair tilted his head skeptically. “How do you figure that?”

“It’s simple. He is an Antivan Crow, trained in dealing death efficiently and without mercy. They do not concern themselves with things like honor or fighting fair, when it comes to fulfilling a contract.”

There was an extended silence before Alistair answered. “Riiight, you know, you haven’t exactly convinced me yet.”

Leliana shook her head and sighed. “Use your head, Alistair. Last night, if Zevran still wanted to, he would have killed you both.” She looked to Theron. “He had you alone away from camp for some time before Alistair showed up, didn’t he?”

The elf cleared his throat and nodded, adjusting his grip on the reins.

“There, you see? It would have been nothing for him to deal with you and then lure Alistair to his death before disappearing into the night. Frankly, I’m surprised you let him get you alone so easily.”

“Well, I can certainly defend myself from –”

Leliana interrupted. “He would have found a way. The professional assassin has more at his disposal than physical strength. There is stealth, persuasion, seduction. Like finding the key that fits the lock, they alter their methods to exploit each target.”

Alistair chuckled boyishly. “Seduction, eh?” He reached over to clap Theron on the back. “You sure that’s not what happened? I can just picture it; rose between his teeth, beckoning from behind a tree.”

“Sh-shove it, Alistair!” The elf shrugged the man’s hand away and he rode ahead, still laughing to himself. Theron glared after the other Warden a few moments before remembering Leliana was still there. He could feel his face burning, but attempted to power through it. “Right, I uh, see your point.” He was ready for the discussion to be over, but Leliana seemed to be looking at him with more interest than before.

“There is one thing I haven’t been able to figure out, however,” she said. Theron fidgeted under the woman’s gaze. “If he was really just trying to escape, he could have managed that as well, even without killing you. So why didn’t he?”

Before Theron could begin to come up with an answer, the sound of cantering hooves announced the return of their scout. He pulled up to a stop in front of the pair at speed, the blonde stallion rearing up slightly with a whinny. The Antivan shushed and patted the animal’s neck as it calmed and caught it’s breath. “Good news! There is a traveling merchant up ahead. Bodahn can unload some of his wares and we can all stretch our legs a bit.” Zevran looked up from his horse and noticed the color in the Warden’s cheeks. He sat back in his saddle and glanced between Theron and Leliana with an amused smirk on his face. “Am I, ah, interrupting something?”

Theron mentally cursed the man. “No, Zevran, you aren’t. Lead us to this merchant, then.”

The Antivan’s smile broadened and he inclined his head with a flourish of his hand. “As you wish.” He clicked his tongue and turned his horse to the front, winking at the Warden when his back was turned to Leliana. Theron bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile, but he wasn’t sure he was entirely successful. They watched the rider make his way to the front of the group. When he was once more out of earshot, Leliana giggled in a surprisingly girlish fashion.

“I see. That solves that little mystery.”

Theron made a valiant effort to maintain a neutral expression. “What do you mean?”

The red head laughed. “You can stop being coy now. I was trained to pick up on these things as a bard. And, well, Zevran isn’t exactly subtle now, is he?”

The dark-haired elf sighed in resignation. “No, no he is not.”

“And that is part of his appeal, isn’t it? He is so very different from you, from everything you have ever known.” Leliana turned to Theron and he met her gaze openly, realizing how much of a relief it was to be able to share this with someone who understood. She continued. “So different, and yet at his core very much the same. He is also far from home, and was unexpectedly removed from his former way of life.” She smiled. “Perhaps he is just what you needed to keep the demons at bay, hmm?”

Theron shook his head in good-natured disbelief. “You’re a little too good at that, you know?” He spurred his horse to catch up with the rest. “I’d hate to hear what you have to say about Morrigan!” he called over his shoulder. Leliana laughed and followed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have returned! Thanks so much to everyone who's read so far, I'm so happy I'm not the only one enjoying the nonsense that comes out of my head. Don't have much else to say, I'm terrible at summaries and I have no idea where I'm going with this one so enjoy!

The rest of the day’s travel was mostly uneventful, punctuated only by a passing group of refugees from some tiny village overrun with darkspawn. Theron and Alistair took some time to ask questions about the size of the horde and which direction they had attacked from. They quickly realized there were about three different answers to each question, depending on who you asked. The only thing they all agreed on was that it had happened with no warning in the dead of night, and there was no use in the Wardens going there. Theron spoke with their leader, a blacksmith who was clearly unaccustomed to being in charge of anything but his forge. “How are your supplies?”

The bearded man shook his head and rubbed his face with a weary hand. “Meager. We all left with naught but the clothes on our backs and the little ones.” he gestured back to the group, which included four mothers with swaddled babes and five older children. A few of the latter were playing a game of make believe, chasing each other around the adults, happily unaware of how much danger they still faced. Theron looked on for a moment, remembering the invisible monsters he and Tamlen had fought together in their youth. A sudden lump in his throat caused the Warden to turn away abruptly. Clearing his throat and blinking away the moisture in his eyes, he gestured for the smith to follow him to Bodahn’s wagon. He climbed in among the stacked crates and sacks of goods, glad for a reason to keep his head down.

“Here.” The smith looked up and reacted in time to catch the lumpy burlap sack the elf dropped. It was followed by another, and then a crate, handed down with a bit more care. Theron jumped down to stand next to the man again. “That should be enough bread and vegetables to get you to Denerim, as long as you ration it carefully.”

The man looked at the food, then back to the elf, his mouth struggling to form words. He finally removed his cap and wrung it in his hands. “Th-thank you, sir! I… hardly know what to say!”

Theron shook his head quickly. “No need to say anything. Just take it and get moving. There isn’t much daylight left.”

The blacksmith nodded and quickly gathered up the supplies. Theron looked up at Bodahn, still seated on the driver’s bench. “Let me know what I owe and I’ll pay once we’ve settled down for the evening.”

Bodahn shook his head firmly. “Not a chance! Way I see it, you’ve paid for everything on this cart twice over with the protection you’ve provided, letting us travel with you. Besides, there couldn’t be a more worthy cause than helping these poor folks make it through another week.”

The Warden thanked the dwarf and started to head back to his black gelding. A woman’s voice reached his ears just as he was pulling himself into the saddle. “So, we are to feed Ferelden’s hungry masses now as well?” Morrigan appeared from somewhere behind Theron and his mount, spooking the horse so that it took the elf a moment to settle the animal. He patted it’s neck and shook his head.

“Just this once, yes, if it pleases you, Morrigan.”

“Hah! It does not, but I suspect that matters little to you.” The witch continued. “Your assistance in matters such as this will mean nothing if the Blight continues unchecked. Better to conserve your resources to ensure your own survival first.”

Theron sighed. “Morrigan, we’re not going to starve for lack of a couple sacks of bread.” The elf urged his horse forward. “If it concerns you so, why don’t you join me next time I go hunting? I could use an extra pair of eyes.”

Morrigan scoffed. “I’d really rather feed myself, thank you very much. You would only slow me down.”

The Warden raised a hand in acknowledgment as she disappeared once again, probably off to turn back into a raven or whatever it was she liked to do all day. He met up with Alistair as the refugees began moving along. “We ready to go?”

“Yes, just waiting on this one.” Alistair nodded to Zevran on his palomino nearby, which seemed to have attracted a small crowd. Theron made his way over in time to see the Antivan leaning from his saddle to hand a giggling boy back to his mother. The woman smiled up at him.

“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry he was such a bother.”

“Not at all, my lady! Your boy knows a fine horse when he sees one! And Ciro is always happy for a chance to stretch his legs!” He patted the stallion’s neck affectionately and noticed Theron. “Ah, I believe it is time we were on our way.” He placed his hand on his heart and bowed his head. “ _Se_ _ñ_ _ora_ , it has been my pleasure.” As Zevran turned to join the Warden, Theron noticed several of the women whispering and giggling to each other as they watched him go before rejoining their own party.

“You attract a lot of attention for someone in your line of work. How’d you ever fulfill a contract?”

“Sometimes, having all eyes on you is the best distraction there is.” He smirked. “And sometimes, I was just the bait while someone else did the killing.” He pulled up beside Theron and watched the villagers continue down the road. “Anyway, I am a professional no longer. I can attract as much attention as I wish, now that I have a fearsome Grey Warden to protect me, no?”

The other elf refused to meet his cocky grin, opting instead for rolling his eyes and turning his horse in the direction of the wagon. “I’d rather we not test the limits of that protection, thanks.” A sudden thought occurred to Theron and he chuckled as they rode towards the rest of the group. “Can you imagine the look on Loghain’s face if he knew?”

Zevran laughed. “I’d pay real coin to see that! But it really is his own fault for hiring an Antivan for the job. We are notorious masters of seduction, after all.”

Theron returned the smile this time.

\---

The group had to stay on the road a bit longer than usual to find a suitable spot to camp. As such, dusk had nearly turned to full dark by the time they finished setting up the last tent. Thankfully building up a fire wasn’t a concern with Morrigan’s magic at their disposal, although Theron suspected she only assisted so they would leave her alone the rest of the evening. True to form, she retreated to her own camp within camp as soon as the job was done. It had been determined soon after Lothering that Leliana and Theron were best left in charge of meal preparation for the group. Leliana did most of the actual cooking, while the Warden provided supplemental herbs and wild vegetation that he gathered during their travels. He had been trying to teach Alistair how to identify a few of the most plentiful plants that grew along the roads of Ferelden, but still inspected everything himself before adding it to the pot. The senior Warden hadn’t quite gotten the hang of telling the edible mushrooms from the poison ones yet. Theron was in the process of sorting through the day’s findings by the fire light when Leliana spoke up next to him.

“Oh, it looks much better!”

Zevran responded, and Theron turned to see him sit on one of the pelts around the fire. “Indeed!” he held a lute which had been polished to a shine. “A clean rag and some affection were all it needed. Now to get it back in tune.” He began plucking a string and slowly turning one of the pegs.

“Where’d you get that?” Theron asked.

“From the traveling merchant this morning. Leliana and I split the cost.” Zevran moved on to tuning the next string.

“I couldn’t bear another night in camp without music!” Leliana exclaimed. “And Zevran tells me he knows some Antivan pavanas and madrigals.”

Theron handed off the approved ingredients to be added to the stew and sat down on a log next to the other elf. “You can play?”

“Reasonably well, yes.” Zevran didn’t look up from his work. “I had to pay my way somehow! This was before I took up killing for a living, of course.”

The Warden tossed a mushroom absently between his hands. “Were you a minstrel, then?”

“Nothing quite so grand, I’m afraid.” Zev plucked each string once more and looked up with a smile, seemingly satisfied with his work. “I played in the brothel I grew up in. What little time I was there, that is, before the Crows bought me.”

“I, uh, I’m sorry… I didn’t –” Theron stuttered.

Zevran laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t apologize, my friend! It is a common enough childhood for an elf in Antiva City. And besides, it gave me a valuable skill.” he played a chord on his newly-tuned instrument. “Countless maidens have given me their virtue after a single serenade!” Ignoring Leliana’s laughter, he leaned over and lowered his voice to speak only to Theron. “And a few men as well.” Theron pushed him away playfully and shook his head. A moment later Alistair approached from his tent, having removed his splint mail.

“Just came to see how the food is com– Hey!” the warrior was interrupted by something small, soft, and round colliding with the side of his head.

“Hey yourself!” Theron responded. “That was mixed in with the morels you picked today.”

Alistair picked up the mushroom projectile and eyed Theron warily. “What’s wrong with it?”

Theron sighed. “What’s wrong with it is it’ll make us so sick we won’t be able to travel for days.” He got up and retrieved the fungus to show the other Warden the identifying features once again, while Zevran continued strumming in the background.

The evening progressed quite pleasantly, indeed, compared to the past few nights the group had endured. Leliana was particularly proud of how the food had turned out. Theron discreetly drew her attention to what appeared to be a small smile on Sten’s face after he tasted the stew. It was the first time either of them had seen the Qunari make such an expression. The group finished off the meal shortly, almost everyone going back for seconds. Theron reclined next to the fire with a contented sigh, resting his head on Finn’s side. The mabari huffed and licked the Warden’s face before returning his attention to the bone he was gnawing on.

“So, how far out do you reckon we are now?” Alistair asked from across the fire.

Theron’s tattooed brow creased over his closed eyes. “About a week, I’d say.”

Alistair nodded, gaze shifting to the middle distance. “Right… Do you really think they’ll help us?”

Theron sighed. “I don’t know, Alistair. That depends on a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

Theron rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Like, which clan we come across. What… what kind of shape they’re in…” He shook his head to clear away those concerns trying to claw their way back into his mind. “I just won’t know until we make contact.”

Alistair wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “Well, they have to know a Blight would affect them too, right? I mean, they can’t expect to hide in the woods while the Archdemon–”

“That’s enough!” Theron shouted, sitting up and startling Finn into a fit of barking. He glared at the other Warden. “You don’t tell me what my people know!” Alistair just stared back in shock and Theron looked away, shaking his head. “ _Dirthara-ma_. You _shems_ never know when to hold your tongue.”

Leliana returned at that moment from her trip to Bodahn’s wagon. She paused uncertainly at the edge of the firelight, a bottle in her hands. “Is… everything alright?” Her eyes traveled between the two men uncertainly.

Theron nodded at the bottle. “Is that wine?”

“Um, yes. It’s a–”

The Dalish Warden took it from her before she could say the vintage and returned to his seat, now refusing to look at Alistair. He uncorked the bottle and took a long swig before handing it off to Zevran.

The Antivan took it and broke his silence from his place next to the dog, who was whining softly. “Well, I think it’s time to break in this beauty, don’t you?” He patted the lute, took a drink, and passed the wine back to Leliana. “Any requests?” He asked, readying the instrument on his knee. When there was no response, he continued. “No matter, I’ve got one to start us off with. A tavern favorite back home.” He began a lively, obviously Antivan piece. The skilled ease with which he played took Theron by surprise. Still simmering from Alistair’s comments, the Warden listened in brooding silence at first, not willing to let go of his anger just yet. Soon the bottle made it’s way back to him and he took another generous drink. The warmth of it began to spread across his face and into his fingertips and he relaxed a bit, scratching Finn between the ears as he watched Zevran play. His practiced fingers danced across the strings and Theron found himself admiring those tanned hands. A strand of golden hair fell across his brow and the Warden couldn’t look away from his face, eyes closed and mouth just barely open. Just begging to be kissed. When he came to the end of that first piece it was as if he were waking up, eyes fluttering open as he took a moment to reorient himself. The musician quickly realized he was being watched and met Theron’s gaze with a smile and a playful glint in his eye. Zev held out his hand and there was a pause before the Warden realized he still had the wine bottle. He hastily handed it to the other elf.

“You’re, uh, pretty good at that.”

Zevran brushed his fingers across Theron’s as he took the wine. Theron was surprised by the ripple of sensation it sent up his arm. “I’m glad you think so.” The assassin took his drink and then handed the bottle and the lute over to Leliana. “I believe it is your turn, no? I’m eager to hear that beautiful voice of yours paired with an instrument.”

The bard inclined her head in acknowledgment of the compliment. Taking only a moment to decide, she started into what turned out to be a traditional Ferelden ballad. The rest listened as the bottle continued to make it’s rounds.

By the time Zevran was playing again Theron’s mind was pleasantly fuzzy from the drink and he was on the verge of forgetting entirely his exchange with Alistair. Then the man stood to approach him and the anger started to creep back in. The elf watched the other Warden with a guarded expression. Alistair stopped in front of him and awkwardly fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he spoke. “Look, I um… I’m sorry about… what I said, earlier.” When Theron didn’t respond, he continued. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, I just… Look, I say stupid things in the best of circumstances, and all the nonsense we’ve been through since Ostagar…” He sighed dejectedly. “I know this has been hard for you too. Hell, harder even, what with leaving your people and… Well, anyway, I’m really sorry.” He held out the half-empty wine bottle.

Theron let him stand there for a long, uncomfortable moment before accepting the gesture. He took the bottle and then used Alistair’s hand to pull himself up and into a brief hug, patting the other man on the back before holding him at arms length to address him. “Apology accepted. We’ve all been stressed past our limits for weeks now. And you’re right,” Theron took a drink and sat back down. “You _do_ say some pretty stupid things!” He smiled up at the human, and there wasn’t any malice in it. “I should know better than to take it seriously by now.”

Alistair laughed with relief and took a seat next to Theron as Zevran started into a fast piece meant for dancing.

\---

Theron was surprised by how quickly the rest of the evening passed. Between the music and the drink, everyone was retiring to their tents in what seemed like the span of ten minutes, though judging by the position of the moon it must’ve been a couple hours. The Warden hadn’t forgotten about the rest of his plans for the evening however, and had stopped drinking after Alistair’s apology to give himself time to sober up. Zevran had done the same. When Shale left on her first patrol as night watch the two elves were left alone at the banked campfire. Theron watched her go and then let his gaze wander to the glowing embers, a leaf skidding across the ground, anywhere except for the man sitting next to him. He found himself feeling an uncertainty and nervousness he hadn’t felt the night before. Granted, he hadn’t exactly had time to think about it then like he did now. And this morning he had known they didn’t have time to really do anything. Then Zevran stood and stretched in his peripheral vision and Theron couldn’t look at anything else.

“Well, I suppose I should get some rest as well.” the Antivan commented. “You will be wanting to rise before dawn tomorrow, no? To make up for our late start today?”

“Uh, yes. That’s right.”

Zevran exhaled a sigh. “ _Mierda_. What I wouldn’t give for one night in a real bed with nowhere to be in the morning!” The blonde met Theron’s wandering gaze and another of his mischievous smiles graced his features. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you chase me into the woods tonight. Unless you like the thrill of the hunt, that is.”

Theron stood to head toward his own tent, placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder and squeezing as he passed. He responded in a low tone that wouldn’t carry. “I think I’ve had enough chasing.” He released his grip and continued to his destination, speaking the next at a normal volume. “I’ll be checking that you’re in your tent in an hour. And good luck getting past Shale.” He heard Zevran’s laugh and retreating footsteps as he stepped into his tent, where he crawled onto his bedroll and collapsed with something between a sigh and a groan. Finn followed soon after. The mabari made quite a fuss about hiding his bone under the Warden’s cloak in the corner. He pushed the fabric around his treasure with his snout for a minute or so before he was satisfied enough to join his master. Theron kept himself occupied for a time petting the dog, who soon fell fast asleep. When he poked his head out to gauge things, he saw Morrigan still up reading at her fire. And there was Shale returning from her first loop around the perimeter. He withdrew and sat back with another impatient sigh, resigning himself to reorganizing his pack. When that was done far too quickly, he unbraided his black hair and ran a wooden comb through it. He was picking the last of the tangles free from the ends when he heard Shale approaching once again. He peeked outside and observed her as she lumbered to the overturned tree near Bodahn’s wagon and sat down, facing the path that led to the main road. A quick glance to Morrigan’s camp confirmed she was finally asleep. Now was his chance.

Theron took one step out of the tent and was stopped by a soft huff of a bark behind him. He turned to see Finn cocking his big head at him, stump of a tail wagging in tentative excitement. The Warden cursed under his breath and pointed a finger at the ground. “Sit!” Finn obeyed. “Good boy. Now stay.” Finn whined a bit, but he didn’t follow when the elf left the tent. With that crisis averted, Theron did another quick scan of the empty camp and strode swiftly through the darkness to his destination. When he found himself actually standing outside Zevran’s tent, he realized his heart was pounding. He paused to inhale a deep, purposeful breath before stepping through.

Zevran was sitting cross legged on his bedroll, leaning back on his hands. “Would you believe that was the longest hour of my life? And I once had to spend an hour wedged into a broom closet with two other men. Not as exciting as it sounds, I assure you.” He continued talking as Theron closed the remaining distance between them. “One of them smelled like a pig and the other was, ah, recently deceased.” He had been looking up at the canvas ceiling while he reminisced. He looked into Theron’s peridot eyes when the Warden kneeled down to his level, awaiting his next move with a flirtatious smirk.

Theron slipped his hand behind Zevran’s neck, threading his fingers through his hair. “You know just how to set the mood, don’t you?” he said as he moved forward to kiss the mouth he’d been staring at all evening. The assassin laughed into the kiss, but was soon overwhelmed by the sensation. When Zevran started kissing back Theron lost all sense of time and place. When he pulled back for air and opened his eyes again, he found he had laid the Antivan down beneath him. Zev’s chest rose and fell under his linen shirt and his eyes had a new intensity to them. The Warden sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it carelessly to the side before reclaiming the other man’s lips. Zev’s hands wandered across Theron’s exposed chest. One lingered to brush teasingly over a nipple while the other slid south to give a firm squeeze to the erection straining against Theron’s trousers. The Warden broke the kiss and gave a restrained groan and a shudder, his hips thrusting into the contact without his input. Zevran took the opportunity to take control, swiftly flipping the Warden onto his back and straddling his hips. He sat up to remove his own shirt. Theron grasped his hips and rubbed his restrained length against Zev’s ass. The blonde bit his lip and appreciated the feeling for a moment. He withdrew his cock from his own trousers and allowed himself a few languid strokes, making quiet noises of pleasure.

“Fuck, Zev,” Theron murmured, drinking in the sight. Zevran smiled and leaned down for another kiss, but quickly moved on this time. He kissed his way down the other elf’s neck and chest, pausing here and there to nibble and suck while his hands untied laces and pulled fabric to the side. He reached his destination just as he withdrew the man’s erection. A gentle squeeze and a lap of his tongue across the tip caused it to jump in his hand and coaxed something between a moan and a whimper from Theron. He grabbed Zevran’s forearm to stop any further motion. “ _She’va dhal_ , stop.” his voice was breathy and ragged. “I’m not going to last if you…”

Zev grinned and released the Warden to pull his trousers all the way off, followed by his own. He returned to Theron’s mouth for another deep kiss and let his arousal brush against the other elf’s teasingly. He let Theron gasp and squirm at the contact and whispered into his ear. “It’s a good thing we don’t have all night, then, isn’t it?” The Antivan pressed himself flush against Theron and chuckled when the Warden thrust against him with a moan. He continued speaking against the man’s ear. “You know, I never properly thanked you for sparing my life.” He allowed Theron another moment of thrusting and groping his ass before sliding down to his former position. Zevran locked eyes with him and kissed his way up the length. “Just relax and let me show my gratitude. It is the least I can do, no?” He said the last with a smirk before taking Theron fully into his mouth.

The Warden cursed when he pressed against the back of Zevran’s throat, but didn’t have time to do much else. The blonde elf quickened his pace and Theron grabbed the corner of a thick blanket to bite down on, knowing he was far past controlling himself. Zevran moaned around him at the sound of Theron’s muffled groans. The vibration made Theron’s cock pulse and he tried to withdraw himself, but Zevran didn’t let him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the blanket wasn’t helping much, but the feeling of Zev’s mouth and tongue around him as he came overrode that concern. His hands were tangled in blonde hair as he moaned the elf’s name. Zevran bobbed his head a couple more times, swallowing once more before releasing the man and moving up to lay down beside him.

It was like coming out of a dream when Theron’s breathing slowed and he opened his eyes to find himself lying down with Zevran next to him, one leg and one arm draped across the Warden. Theron absently caressed the Antivan’s thigh and for one horrified moment wondered if he had slept through the night. That theory was disproved as he realized Zev was still catching his breath. It was further confirmed when Zevran shifted his hips and pressed his half-hard member against Theron’s leg. Fully aware again, the dark-haired elf turned on his side and pulled his partner into a slow kiss. He reached between them to take hold of Zevran and started moving down to return the favor.

“Wait,” a command and a hand on his arm stopped him. He was pulled back up into a needful kiss. “That’s not what I want, _cari_ _ñ_ _o_.” The assassin smiled against his lips. “Well, we don’t have time for what I want, but we can make do.” He turned his back to Theron and settled in close against him, then grasped the man’s hand and took two of his fingers into his mouth. Theron exhaled against his ear as Zevran sucked and licked until they were sufficiently lubricated. He guided the Warden’s hand into position and Theron needed no more direction; he gently massaged the entrance with the tips of his slick fingers. Zevran gave a soft moan and started stroking himself while the Warden worked. Theron continued teasing and coaxing, occasionally dipping a finger inside for only a moment and relishing the frustrated groans that resulted. He held off until Zev was pushing his hips back against him every time, then slowly sunk both fingers in to the hilt. Zevran grabbed the arm across his chest and cursed, pausing the motion of his hand on his cock.

“Are you ok? Was that too much?” Theron whispered against his neck.

“ _Joder, no!_ ” The Antivan ventured a slow stroke of his hand and cursed again before continuing in a ragged whisper. “Shut up and fuck me before I decide to kill you after all!”

The Warden bit back a chuckle and hid his smile behind Zevran’s back as he thrust his fingers in and out, gradually building up the pace. The assassin kept the same pace with his own hand and it wasn’t long before he was panting and painfully tightening his grip on Theron’s arm. The dark-haired elf’s body had had some time to recover and was beginning to respond again to the sights and sounds. His manhood twitched and he breathed into the other man’s ear. “Gods, I wish this was my cock in your ass.”

Something Antivan escaped Zevran’s mouth at much too high a volume as he came. It was Theron’s turn to curse as he wrenched his arm free of his grasp to cover Zev’s mouth through the rest of his orgasm. The Warden kissed and nipped at his neck, becoming increasingly aware of how much of his noises must be carrying outside the tent. When Zevran had released himself and started giggling into Theron’s hand, the Warden extracted his fingers. “Glad you enjoyed yourself, but I don’t see how we got away without waking at least half the camp.” He stopped to listen.

Zevran pulled the man’s hand from over his mouth to respond. “You were loud too, you know.” Theron shushed him and he waited patiently.

When he was satisfied there was no activity outside, Theron sighed and began feeling around the bedding for his trousers. “Not as loud as you.” He located his clothing and hesitated. “…Was I?”

Zevran sat up with another chuckle, his shoulder-length hair disheveled. “Well, maybe not quite. But how am I supposed to control myself when you say such naughty things to me, hmm?” he draped his arms over the Warden’s shoulders and nibbled at his ear. “I had no idea the stoic leader of the Grey Wardens had such desires.”

Theron took Zevran by surprise with a deep, lingering kiss before finally pulling away and standing to get dressed. “I have to go. Who knows what time it is now… _Mythal…_ Do you know where– ” He looked up to see the Antivan already holding his shirt. It was kept out of his reach when he tried to take it.

“Ah, I don’t think you want to wear it out, my friend…”

“Why not?” A closer inspection revealed the sticky mess across the front of the garment. Theron sighed and rolled it up to carry under his arm.

“Apologies. Were we not so pressed for time I would have taken more care with my… aim, as it were.”

The Warden snorted in amusement and shook his head as he focused on lacing up his trousers. He opened his mouth to say something else when Finn suddenly burst through the tent flap, barking excitedly. “Finn! No! Bad!” Theron issued commands as loudly as he dared, while the dog happily ignored them. Zevran pulled the blanket up to shield himself and laughed while the animal sniffed and licked the exposed parts of his face. Theron finally resorted to pulling him back by the collar and physically moving him toward the exit. “I’m so sorry! I have to go! I’ll see you tomorrow!” he addressed Zevran over his shoulder as he dragged his dog out of the tent. Zev just waved from under his blanket, still laughing.

Once they were outside Theron released the hound and he trotted back from whence he had come, sitting down at the Warden’s empty tent and panting as he waited for his master to join him. The elf shook his head in disapproval as he caught his breath. After a moment he headed for the edge of camp, aiming for the nearby stream to clean up in. He began to think he had somehow avoided detection when Leliana emerged from her tent as he passed by, nearly making him jump out of his skin. “Oh, Theron,” she was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I thought I heard…” she faltered as she got her first proper look at him, taking in his disordered appearance and the dodgy look in his eyes. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, I mean, it’s…” Theron stopped himself, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “It’s nothing. Finn chased something out of camp. Probably just a rabbit. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to clean my… shirt.” Her eyes, now fully alert, darted up to his messy hair and back to his bare torso, as if trying to puzzle something out. She looked past him in the direction of Zevran’s tent and gasped as the pieces fit together. Theron groaned and resumed his trek to the stream before she could see his face turn red again. “Stop doing that!” he called over his shoulder, no longer caring if anyone else woke up.

“I’m sorry! I can’t help it!” she replied. There was a pause, then, “I hope it went well!”

Theron reached the treeline at that moment and gladly disappeared into the woods.


End file.
